Motherhood is Not Mandatory
“Raise your hand if you see yourself getting married one day.”
I was sitting in my senior year AP psychology class, and we were in the midst of discussing childhood development and parenting when my teacher began surveying us. Along with everyone else in the room, I raised my hand-sure, I could see myself getting married one day.
Her next question earned a different response from me. “Now keep your hand up if you plan on having children.”
I lowered my arm. Only one or two others followed suit. Clearly, I was no longer in the majority.
On that particular day, I couldn’t explain exactly why I was changing my mind about the possibility of having children one day. When I was young, I had assumed that everyone had kids. It was part of the life script: graduate high school, go to college, get a job, get married, buy a house, pop out 2.5 kids, maybe get a golden retriever, retire to Florida. And I was down with most of that. I wanted to go to college and work full-time. I wanted to get married one day and buy a house. And I wouldn’t mind retiring to a sunny destination when it was all said and done. Plus, I loved golden retrievers.
But as I began preparing for college, I had to start thinking seriously about what I actually wanted for myself. For the first time, I had to make a major life decision all on my own. Making that first big choice got me thinking about all the other big choices I would have to make in the future-like having children. Or maybe it was seeing a live birth video in health class that got the ball rolling.
Either way, I was reconsidering.
The first time I openly stated that I didn’t want kids, I was seventeen years old. Six years later, my position has not wavered. Actually, after working with children for three of those years, moving out and footing all of my own bills, and getting into a long-term relationship with a guy who also doesn’t want kids, I would say that my conviction has strengthened-despite the backlash.
Even in 2017, many people still cannot conceive of womanhood independent of motherhood.
I am not infertile, chronically ill, or disabled in any way-as far as I know, I am perfectly capable of giving birth, but I simply have no desire to do so. Saying that I do not want children has inspired ugly reactions from those who take offense at the idea of a woman who actively rejects the role of a mother, even those who consider themselves “progressive.”
I have had people tell me that they hope I have an “oops” pregnancy, as if an accidental pregnancy is something to be taken lightly. I have been told that I am a “horrible person” for not wanting a child even if I do end up in a happy and stable marriage, as if a marriage is not valid unless it results in a baby. I have been asked, “Well, what if your husband wants kids?” as if a man is ever entitled to use any woman’s body as his own personal baby factory. I have been asked, in a group setting, what I would do if I were to get pregnant one day, as if that is not a private and personal choice.
When a woman states that she does want children, her choice is rarely challenged, but when I state that I do not, I am suddenly forced to explain and justify a decision that affects no one but myself and my significant other. This is not to say that women who do become mothers escape any criticism. After a child is born, friends, relatives, and strangers alike will often bombard new parents with invasive questions or judge them if they do not raise the baby a certain way. Women are damned if we do, damned if we don’t. No matter what choice we make regarding motherhood, the moment that we commit to a decision, our bodies become public property: an object for others to discuss and debate, to project their own desires while disregarding our agency.
Perhaps the most frustrating reaction to the statement “I don’t want kids” is the disappointment. “Awwww, really?” The sighs, the shaking heads. Sometimes, this response is worse than the open hostility. In those moments, I have to wonder: am I not complete on my own? Am I not whole, am I not enough already?
I am still young. At twenty-three, none of my friends are having children yet. Most of them do plan to someday, and I know the societal pressure will grow stronger as I get older. But I have always known myself quite well: I have wanted to be a writer since I learned to write, and now I get paid to do it. I have wanted to travel the world since I was a child, and now I live outside the US. I don’t see myself caving on this life-changing issue to please people who don’t approve of my “childfree” stance. What I do fear is the inevitable alienation. Sometimes I imagine an older version of myself sitting in a room full of my friends, listening to them discuss baby names or preschools or potty training, wanting to support them but having no way to relate.
So many of our society’s ideas surrounding womanhood are still connected with motherhood: the idea of all women as naturally maternal, nurturing, and compassionate people who are drawn to children is still fairly prevalent. To some people, my choice to eschew motherhood subtracts from my womanhood, as if by rejecting the former, I am divorcing myself from the latter.
It is past time for people to let go of the ludicrous notion that a woman’s worth depends on whether or not she becomes a mother. A woman does not owe the world a baby. Just because I was born with all the equipment to do so does not mean that I must consent to having a child. The choice to have a child is just that-a choice. I am lucky to live at a time when women have more power than ever to take that choice into their own hands, to live life on our own terms, to freely decide if and when we will bring a child into this world. And if that decision is “never,” it is not up to anyone else to try to change our minds.
Motherhood is not mandatory. Motherhood is not synonymous with womanhood. For everyone who does choose to become a mother, I wish you the best of luck in your journey. And for those of you who don’t, remember this: what you do with your body and your future is only for you to decide.
